The Last Chance Job
by Aelthar101
Summary: As the team gets ready to take down Moreau they begin to learn a few surprising things their hitter has tried so carefully to keep secret. Eliot faces Moreau and his past and realizes that its his last chance for a lot of things. Including love. An Eliot/oc story
1. Chapter 1

I recently began watching Leverage again and this character just popped into my mind, I have no idea how, or no idea why, but this character will not leave me alone. So I decided to give it a go and see what became of her. Let me know what you think. I do not want to give too much away too soon, partly because I want to slowly reveal who the character is but also because I am still working a few details out. I hope that you are at least interested in learning a little bit more about this woman. Let me know if you are!

* * *

The clock clicked silently as another minute passed by. It wasn't quite a clock, more a watch propped up on an empty case. A woman sighed and stretched her back. It was hot. She chuckled.

Of course it was hot, she was sitting on a mountain dressed in heavy camouflage in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of the Colombian Rainforest. She settled herself back down amongst the grass, shielding herself even more from any unwanted attention. She focused her attention back on the task at hand. As much as she loved this little vacation, it was time to wrap it up.

The house was in shambles, as if it had been abandoned for years. Certainly not the place one would expect to see any level of an organized operation, and most definitely not where one would expect a manufacturing plant. Of course this wasn't an ordinary manufacturing plant, this was a manufacturing plant for cocaine. She checked back at the rusted out truck by the side of the building. Still no movement. There had been no movement in that building since early that morning. Not that she had expected any, she knew that her mark would not be arriving for another half hour, but she wanted to ensure she was ready. She didn't really have room for mistakes. She was expected to provide results.

The man she was waiting for went by the name El Toro. That was all she knew and that was all she needed to know. In some shape or form this man had wronged her employer. More than likely he had shorted him on a deal, something her employer was never quite fond of. In other words, El Toro, was no longer an asset to her employer, and was deemed a nuisance. Besides, El Toro's boss himself was beginning to grow a little cocky, allowing EL Toro too much free reign.

She watched down the only road that led to the house. A small cloud of dirt was beginning to show itself over the trees tops of the forest below. The woman glanced down at her watch, five minutes to spare. She watched through the scope as the red Land Rover pulled up to the house and a well dressed man stepped out onto the dusty road. He was too well dressed to be in a place such as this, it was too hot to be wearing that many clothes.

She focused her attention on the man, all her senses suddenly sharpened. She could feel every breath of wind, the weight the humidity added to the air. She let out a soft breath and gently pulled the trigger. A soft pop echoed through the trees as the bullet exploded from the gun. El Toro did not have the chance to look towards the sound before a gaping hole appeared in his head. His driver jumped from the car, gun raised but as he looked towards the once formidable man that now lay bleeding in the dirt, he joined him. His eyes empty as the small echoes of a second pop shook the trees.

The woman raised herself to a crouch quickly and gracefully making her way down the mountain. The house was a half mile away, she would have to make it there in minutes to tie up any last remaining loose ends. She put her sniper rifle on her back, pulling the pistol from her leg. She paused as she neared the bodies, just double checking that she had in fact made her mark. Not that she had any actual doubt she had missed, more as a need to confirm her success. The earpieces she knew the two would be wearing were no doubt loud with chatter, waiting for an update. She peered through the window, the ramshackle house was merely a front, the entire factory lay underground, she had no doubt there would be at least thirty people in there, hard at work. Today however, there were only five. She had counted. A large shipment of Cocaine had left just yesterday and the next batch would not be in until the day after. Five was just enough in her employer's mind to send a message. She sighed, checking to make sure her gun was ready.

She kicked the door down and in one fluid movement took the first two men she came two before they had a chance to turn towards the door. The remaining three quickly followed suite. Her movements so fast they did not have time to reach for her guns. She did a quick sweep of the room just to be sure there was no one else. She stopped as she passed by one of the men. In his hand had been a photograph. She knelt and picked it up, the picture was marred by a giant smear of blood, but she could see enough to make out that the man had no doubt been showing off his daughter at what the woman could only assume was her birthday. She grit her teeth as she looked at the picture, frustrated that she had even picked it up. She threw it on the ground. There was still work to be done. She dragged the bodies to the front of the house, up the stairs and arranged them neatly in front of the door. She plucked the earpiece from El Toro.

She smirked at the mixture of confused and angry shouts coming through the speaker.

"Moreau envía sus saludos. La próxima vez que usted debe tener más cuidado con sus secures," she said into the piece before she crushed it with her heel.

She glanced at her watch again, this time on her wrist. She had an hour before anyone from anywhere would be able to reach the house. There was still time. Even with this realization she ran back to her hide. She grabbed the case that held the rather expensive rifle and ran back through the jungle, her heavy camouflage barely slowing her down. She only slowed when she could hear the sounds of the river where she knew her partner for this assignment was waiting. She never needed a partner, in fact none of them actually helped her in anyway other than being her chauffeur, they were there only to make sure she did her job. She slaked through the last remaining feet of jungle before coming onto a sandy bank. Her ever vigilant partner was sound asleep in the long thin boats the natives are seen fishing with in the river. She roughly kicked the boat almost causing it to fall over, she couldn't help but laugh at the startled expression her partner held as he almost landed in the water.

"Dammit Fischer!"he shouted, angrily shoving his hat back on, "Took you long enough,"he grumbled as he started the small engine.

Fischer plopped her gun in the boat, her ghillie suit quickly following. The partner could not help but look at the lithe body of the woman as she emerged from the bulky suit. He shook his head, it was a shame that she was more or less reserved for one man and one man only.

"Just get us out of this fucking jungle Tanner," she replied brusquely.

The man grumbled quietly as he kicked off from the shore. His "partner"draped her legs in front of her resting against her rifle and suit leaving him to the task of getting them back to the city.

Abigail Fischer closed her eyes as if that would rid herself of what had transpired mere minutes ago in the jungle. Her mind had other thoughts and the only image that remained was that of the blood smeared birthday photograph she had found in the house. Despite the heat of the day Abigail shivered. It was high time to get out of Colombia. She was starting to let the job affect her. Besides, Moreau would be waiting.

* * *

Translation: Moreau sends his regards. Next time you should be more careful with your goons.

Please please PLEASE review and let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Let me know if you guys like this! Anything that looks like the script is. The only thing I own is Abbigail**

* * *

The heat from the sun was intense as it radiated off the black tarmac as Abigail stepped from the car. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she pulled her sunglasses back over her eyes. She was sick of the heat.

"Geezus," Tanner grumbled getting out of the truck, "You think boss could have managed to find us transportation with air conditioning."

Abigail snorted pulling her guns from the bed of the rusty pick up truck.

"The whole point of this job was to blend in, bring no attention to the two of us. Besides," she said walking towards a small jet, "he let us use his jet."

"Oh yeah, big deal," continued Tanner, "He's got about six of them."

Abigail smirked, "Come on. He'll be waiting."

She readjusted the strap on her bag watching in modest amusement as Tanner made his way across the tarmac and into the waiting jet. His only thoughts focused on the fully stocked bar in the plane. Abigail just wanted sleep.

"Ms. Fischer," the flight attendant nodded towards the young woman as she entered the plane.

The flight attendant watched as the young woman entered the plane. She was so out of place in this world. The extravagance of the small jet was completely lost on Abigail. Her clothes were simple and covered with a layer of general grime. Her dirty blond hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail that framed an incredibly beautiful face.

Abigail plopped her bags on a chair before sinking into one herself.

"Moreau wants you to meet him in New York," Tanner said through a mouthful of food, "at the penthouse."

Abigail didn't even bother to hide her look of glanced at her watch. 10 o'clock. It would be late by the time they finally reached New York.

She settled back into the seat as the jet took off. She had six hours. Six hours she could sleep without being bothered by Moreau.

* * *

"Rise and shine sweetheart."

Abigail wrenched her eyes open to see Tanner's smug face right in front of hers.

"Tanner. Move," she barked.

He only chuckled as he slowly straightened up, "Car's waiting pricncess."

Abigail rolled her eyes. One good punch. That was all she needed to wipe that smirk off his face. She dragged herself from the plane. Each step down the stairs seemed to add new weight to her shoulders.

"Let's go!" Tanner yelled.

He was standing by the door of the car impatiently checking his watch. Just a few more minutes and his baby sitting job was over. Abigail glared at him as she slid into the car. Tanner pulled out his phone and followed her. Abigail listened half heartedly.

"Boss, on our way."

Tanner looked over at the slumped woman, giving her a very thorough once over.

"No she behaved herself. In and out. Objective is complete."

Tanner slid his phone back into his jacket and looked back at the young woman again. The driver handed a long bag to the two in the back seat. Abigail sighed. She knew what it was. Moreau didn't like any of his girls wearing anything that was unflattering, or inelegant. She looked down at her dusty jeans and faded blue shirt. She had half a mind to leave them on just to see the expression on his face, yet she knew in the long run it would do her no good.

"Don't mind me," Tanner smirked. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "I'll close my eyes."

Abigail felt her eyes roll, it wasn't exactly as if she could stop it. She roughly shoved Tanner to the other side of the car where he chuckled, too proud of himself. She leaned forward to speak with the driver.

"Could you at least stop for a moment please?" Abigail begged, "A restaurant, store, gas station, anywhere."

The driver made eye contact through the rearview mirror, her eyes were pleading with him. He nodded silently, quickly pulling over to a gas station on the side of the road.

It took them twenty more minutes of driving through busy New York streets before the car made it to the lavish hotel that for the moment was the home of none other than Damien MOreau. Made evident by the large numbers of overly beautiful women crowding the lobby. The doorman of the hotel was accustomed to seeing beautiful women dropped off to entertain the male patrons of the hotel, yet as a black SUV pulled up, the doorman was taken by surprise.

The woman that stepped from the car was just as beautiful as the rest of the women, there was nothing so different about the way that she looked that drew the doorman's attention, it was perhaps her steely grey eyes or the confident way she held herself. The red dress she wore clung to her every curve. Her hair was carefully wrapped and twisted away from her face, making her eyes stand out even more. She was small but it was hard to tell. The black pumps she wore certainly increased her height several inches.

Tanner slammed the door of the car shut and it quickly drove away. He moved foward and took Abigail by the elbow, moving her forward and into the grand lobby. Abigail did not take notice of the impressive architecture of the lobby, she had lost interest in that sort of thing years ago. When you are constantly surrounded by such extravagance, it ceases to amaze.

It wasn't until the elevator doors closed on them that either one spoke.

Tanner leaned towards Abigail's ear whispering in what he was sure was a seductive way, "You should wear dresses like that more often, it reveals your more...feminine qualities."

Abigail grit her teeth, smiling a very fake smile, "You should get your hand off my ass, if you ever plan on using that hand again."

Abigail faced Tanner with a sickly sweat smile. The man smirked holding his hands high in the air as the elevator doors opened. Abigail left Tanner standing like an idiot in the elevator. She strutted into the penthouse, giving off an air of arrogance that was not genuine, yet it was necessary.

She passed a young girl holding a tray of champagne and grabbed a flute, continuing to the terrace where she saw him pacing while he held a cellphone in a death grip. She silently eased her way onto the terrace and settled herself onto a chair. She watched Moreau with a calculating glance sipping her champagne waiting for him to finish his call.

Moreau slammed his phone down on the table causing everything to jostle slightly. He picked up his scotch noticing for the first time Abigail's presence. She raised her eyebrows asking him silently what it was the phone call had been about.

"Someone," he growled downing the rest of his scotch, "someone took down Keller, and is now going after Vector."

Abigail snorted taking another sip of champagne, "Keller was never really that careful and Vector is an idiot so its not really that surprising now is it?"

Moreau only glared at her over his glass. Abigail clicked her tongue, subtly mocking him.

"What's the matter Moreau, is someone finally catching on to all your incredibly illegal doings?"

Moreau slammed his glass down on the table next to his phone pursing his lips, fuming in anger.

"If Vector testifies, it will be evidence that the courts will actually be able to use against me."

Abigail just watched him, calmly sipping her champagne. Moreau fumed some more, looking back and forth between the young woman and his phone. Until finally, he grabbed his phone once more and angrily jabbed the keys.

"We're going to Boston. Get a plane ready, we'll be there in an hour."

Abigail now narrowed her eyes, suspecting where his intentions were going. Sure enough as soon as Moreau hung up, he turned towards her with a wide smile.

"Let's go precious," he said, seductively running a finger down her cheek, "there's work to be done."

Abigail shuddered.

"Pack your bags."

Abigail shook her head, "I just got back!"

In one fluid movement Moreau lurched forward and roughly slapped her across the face. She glared at him but said nothing as she stormed from the room. Moreau watched her retreating backside with a wide grin. No matter what she believed, she was his, entirely undoubtably his.

"I know everything," mumbled Vector.

* * *

Nate wandered over to the window, still carefully listening to everything that spilled out of Vector's mouth. Sophie glanced at Nate from the corner of her eye, yet her focus never left Vector.

"Where?" she prodded.

"Nowhere. Its not written down, its not on a drive, its not in a cloud," Vector rambled, "Its encrypted and only I know how to break the code. Moreau helped fund that, uh, nightclub bombing in Cyprus last month. Now let me ask yo, counselor, is that worth the life of an ice bunny who got in over her head?"

Nate was now paying attention to the babble between Eliot and Harrison. Dirty cops in the building coming after Vector...

"Something isn't quite right," he muttered to himself.

"Hey Vector, can I have a word?" Nate asked, his eyes not leaving the window, or more specifically the windows of the building across the street, "Does Moreau know you have all this information?"

Vector shook his head quickly, "No idea."

"Yeah," muttered Nate, "I bet he does now."

A sudden spatter of bullets crashed through the window, confirming Nate's suspicions. Nate pulled Vector down on the floor away from the windows.

"What the hell is this? What's going on?!" Vector yelled.

Sophie rolled away from the windows crouching behind the kitchen counter.

"You've been found out by Moreau," Nate yelled over the cracks of the bullets, "Any idea how?"

Nate thought back to the airport. It would have been so easy for someone to have put a drop phone on Vector so they could trace his location.

"Guys," Nate yelled through the earbud, confident that with the chaos now surrounding them, Vector would not remember anything that was said, "His phone, they followed him through his phone."

"Ok, Nate," came Harrison's voice through the earbud, "Help is on the way. Got dirty cops in the bar and a fed in the elevator."

Nate hurriedly grabbed Vector's phone of the counter, at the very least it would most likely contain some useful information. At Nate's sudden movement, the gunfire increased, this time with more direction and purpose.

"Get us out of here!" Sophie cried looking desperately at the door, the sniper was now focusing their attention in that direction cutting off their escape.

"We're boxed in!" yelled Nate.

"I'm working on it!" Harrison yelled desperately, he was being pulled in so many directions at the moment.

Nate's earbud was overtaken by the gruff sounds of Elliot fighting off what Nate hoped were the dirty cops.

"Ok Parker," Harrison called out, "Its time for you to ditch McSweetheart and get to NAte and Sophie. And Hurry!"

Nate sighed, sure the rest of the team was taking their sweet time getting to them, but they were coming.

"Nate," Eliot growled through the earbud, "downstairs is clear," the gunfire rattled through his earpiece, "Talk to me!"

Nate ducked another smattering of bullets.

"What the hell's going on up there?!" he growled again.

Nate cringed as he heard more more smashing from the gunfire, "I'm still dealing with the sniper!"

Eliot watched Harrison fiddle with his phone. It wasn't fast enough.

"I got him!" he growled.

"Hey, hey!" Harrison called after him, "Where are you going?" he shook his head and turned his attention back to his phone, "Nate which building?"

"Right across the window from me," Nate answered, frustrated that this was taking so long.

Eliot raced up the stairs just as the fire alarms began blaring and the sprinklers emptying onto the floors. He burst into the snipers room, but it was empty.

"Harrison, shut the alarm off!" he grumbled.

"Oh, now you want my help?" Harrison asked dryly.

"Nate," Eliot said looking around the room for any sort of clue, "The shooter's gone. Place is clean, no shells, hell I haven't seen a job this clean since-" Eliot paused remembering the exact time he had seen a job this clean.

"Nate," he said with more urgency, "this guy definitely works for Moreau. Thats how he does things."

Abigail rushed down the sidewalk, nearly running into several people. The large cello case she wore hid her gun from the general public. She looked over her shoulder, this whole job was too close. She fumbled around her jacket to find her phone; her heart was pounding as she tossed it in a trash can.

"Oh sorry," she mumbled bumping into a hurried businessman.

She couldn't help a small smirk as she opened up his phone. She punched in a number she had unfortunately memorized by heart. She dreaded the conversation she knew was coming.

"Moreau," she said through gritted teeth, still trying to make her way through the hurried streets of New York, "There were complications."

"What kind of complications?"

"Vector was being conned by a group, they had their own hit-man."

"Who is it?"

"I-I don't know," she answered truthfully, though if she were honest with herself, she knew exactly who it was that had run across the street.

She could hear his frustration through the phone, "Is Vector taken care of?"

She hesitated really not wanting to be the one to deliver this news, "I...I don't know."

Moreau took a deep breath, and smiled evilly, "You're slipping Fischer. If you're not carefulI I might slip myself and cause a little accident."

Abigail stopped at the sudden end-tone. She angrily threw the phone on the ground, feeling very satisfied as it smashed into several pieces.

* * *

Eliot dug the bullet out of the wall, he looked at the bullet with a mix of emotions.

"Nate this is serious," Eliot said, holding the bullet in his hand, "This was fired from a TPG-1, I can count the number of people that have this gun on one hand."

Nate looked at the hitter, "what does this mean?"

"It means Moreau's not messing around. Nate we're in too deep. We need more time."

Nate shook his head, "Yeah funny thing about time, we're running out of it."

* * *

**Please let me know what you guys think. I'm trying to make Abigail from becoming Marysue, it will be more evident in later chapters so if you aren't completely sold on her giver her a chance :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I was trying to do one long chapter when I realized it was just going to be waaaay too long so I decided to split it in half. Let me know what you think! I promise more OC will be in the next chapter. **

**PS. Anything that looks or sounds like the script is and is not my original work. **

* * *

Nate scratched his head before pouring himself another drink. Sophie sighed from the barstool next to him. The two made eye contact, neither having to say a word. They were waiting for news from the rest of the team, things had started moving too fast and now there was nothing the two could do about. It had only been days since Nate had seen the Italian.

_Nate sighed as he turned the radio down in his car. It was late, or early, he couldn't really decide which as he pulled into the parking garage. As he parked his car he looked around the garage. It was dark and quiet and he couldn't help the small twinge of apprehension at his current situation. A small part of his mind was starting to wonder if he should have taken Eliot with him, just in case._

_ "I wasn't sure you'd come," a heavily accented voice called out from the shadows. _

_ Nate sighed, "I though I told you to back off. I remember being pretty clear about it."_

_ The Italian approached Nate's convertible, "Life is change Mr. Ford. For you that change is now. Damien Moreau is coming."_

A sudden clang shook Nate from his reverie. Eliot came strutting into the bar, his face sooty and a rather disgruntled look on his face. Nate soon discovered why when Hardison and Parker followed dragging a very shell shocked woman behind them.

"All I'm saying," started a slightly breathless Hardison, "there exists a speed limit for a _reason_."

Parker just rolled her eyes, "That's never any fun though!"

Eliot just shook his head as he went in to Nate's apartment to change and make a call.

Nate sighed going behind the bar to pour a rather large cup of coffee. He brought the steaming drink over to Yasmin, the young woman that his team had both saved and terrified in the same night.

"Here we are," he said gently handing her the cup as a sort of peace offering.

"Thank you," Yasmin answered snapping out of her slightly dazed trance, "Don't get me wrong I'm grateful for you saving me."

Nate eased himself into the chair across from her, "Ok, well, actually we didn't. As of now, you are officially dead. And to keep you safe, we need to keep it that way."

Yasmin was not exactly comforted by these words and looked at Nate in shock. Sophie took this cue to join the two at the table to help ease Yasmin's mind.

"Who would want to kill me?" Yasmin asked visibly shaken, "I'm - I'm nobody."

"Damien Moreau," Nate answered, the weight of the name itself seeming to drag him down, "Damien Moreau is, um - he's an international financier. He runs money for drug dealers, smugglers. He's um-"

"He's a jack of all trades," Sophie interjected, "most of them bloody."

"What would he want with me?"

Nate leant forward still trying to piece everything together.

"Well, we have reason to believe that this has something to dow this guy, your boss at the department of defense."

"Elias Atherton."

"What's he like?" Sophie asked.

"He was some kind of general," Yasmin said, thinking back to the few times she had actually seen Atherton, "Then he retired and started working for a research arm of the Department of Defense. He's kind of a jerk, and not nearly as smart as he thinks he is, but I can't believe he'd be involved in something like this."

"Yeah well," Nate interrupted, "He's been in Moreau's pocket for years and we have evidence of payments going back a decade."

"The project that you're working on with him, what is it?" Sophie asked gently.

"That's why its all so crazy," Yasmin said with a soft chuckle, "you're going to laugh."

"Bet we don't," Nate answered with the straightest face Yasmin had ever seen.

"It's a battery."

At the mention of a battery, Hardison's interest was immediately piqued, he leaned over Yasmin's shoulder looking at the schematics she had pulled up on a tablet.

"That's a lot of energy for a small battery," he said looking at everything closely. Parker of course was interested as soon as Hardison mentioned energy.

"Does it blow up?" she asked with almost too much excitement.

Hardison shook his head, "Not everything blows up Parker."

She laughed, "Everything blows up silly."

Yasmin looked at the young thief, "No its just a power source. I was working in a civilian laboratory when Atherton and the D.O.D folded in my research grant with one of their projects. That's when I started asking questions.

Eliot came into the bar, looking out the window before recognizing the car and driver.

"Yasmin, your ride is here."

Nate stood walking Yasmin to the door, "Go talk to this guy," he said handing her a small card.

"Detective Captain Bonanno?" she asked.

"Yeah, talk to him and only him. He'll keep you safe, all right?"

"Thank you," Yasmin said more grateful than she could ever show of what this group of complete strangers had done for her.

Nate smiled, "Well thank us when its over."

As Yasmin walked towards the door Nate sighed again, "If we're around."

Sophie hung up her cellphone as Nate reentered the bar.

"I called some friends in Europe. Damien Moreau is running an auction at the end of the week, $2 million buy-in, high rollers only. Something about a Ram's Horn?"

Sophie and Nate joined Parker and Hardison at their table.

"Yasmin's deadline was this week. Thats not a coincidence," Nate pointed out.

"Time to notify the feds?" Hardison asked hopeful it would be as easy as that.

"No, Atherton's too connected," Nate said thinking everything through, "No we come at his straight-on, he's just gonna call in some facor from a senator, and he'll skate on this whole thing."

Eliot came towards the table after having made sure Yasmin made it safely to the car.

"If Moreau was bothered by the cops, he wouldn't be staying at a downtown hotel in D.C."

Sophie looked at the hitter in confusion, "You keep tabs on Moreau?"

Eliot gritted his teeth not exactly liking where this conversation was going.

"I make it a priority to know where Moreau is at all times so we can avoid him. Atherton was a general in the black ops. Moreau- well he's Moreau. We need more time..." he grumbled looking pointedly at Nate.

"We've run out of time," Nate interrupted.

"To prep this," Eliot finished.

"No," Nate shook his head, "we have to figure out exactly what this Ram's Horn is and where Moreau is gonna be holding the auction."

Hardison was the first one to notice Eliot's tense presence, sitting directly across from the hitter it was almost impossible for him to miss the darkness in the man's eyes.

"Hey you cool man?" Hardison asked Eliot.

Eliot shifted almost nervously in his chair, "Nate, me and Hardison will his Moreau. We'll get an invite to the auction."

Nate nodded not really paying attention to anyone but the plan at that point.

"Okay, you guys do that, and the rest of us, we'll find out what the hell this Ram's Horn thing is. And, Sophie, who exactly can get into a government facility on short notice?"

Sophie thought for a second, "The president, the vice president, any of the joint chiefs, and anyone from congress."

"All right, perfect. Nobody knows who their congressman is."

Hardison immediately began working on his computer, "Its a Department of Defense Lab, so the best I can do is visitor passes, maybe media relations, but nothing classified."

Nate nodded, that was enough, "All right, well, that'll get us in, Atherton will do the rest. Let's go steal the department of defense," he said standing and making a move for the door.

"Isn't that treason?" Parker asked, only slightly worried.

Nate paused only slightly, "We'll give it back."

Abigail looked out the window of the plan sighing as she saw Chapman waiting by a car. This day was just getting better and better. The stairs lowered and the small gaggle of overly beautiful women descended giggling and talking amongst themselves. They didn't even bother to look at the car, there was already transportation arranged for them to take them to the hotel where they would wait for Moreau.

Abigail stood, straightening out the tight black dress she was now wearing. Moreau remained in the plane waiting for the women to leave and was watching her closely as she bent down to put her red pumps on, paying particular attention to how the fabric of the dress stretched over her rear end.

She straightened, ending Moreau's careful study of her features and he beckoned towards the door. It was time to move. Abigail descended the steps first, noticing how deserted the airport seemed, although she supposed that was one of the perks that came with being able to own your own line of private jets. Moreau followed closely behind her, his sunglasses concealing his eyes making it impossible to see what he was looking at. He quickly entered a number in his phone and within a few rings, the line was received. A small smile came across his face as the person on the other end of the conversation began speaking. Abigail could not quite make out who it was, but she had a certain idea.

"She made herself a liability," Moreau answered calmly without remorse, and it was confirmed. Abigail knew exactly who he was talking to.

"I have buyers waiting," Moreau said walking towards the waiting car, "I've come here in person to supervise the auction. Delay is not an option. _Finish_ the Ram's Horn."

Chapmen opened the door for the two smirking at Abigail as she eased herself in the seat. She ignored the slimy henchman's look and roughly shut the door.

"Not a threat, just a reminder," continued Moreau, "either you're an asset or a liability. I like you Atherton. Be an asset."

He ended the call cutting off anything further Atherton would have to say. There was silence in the car as Chapman began to drive towards the hotel.

"You need me to take care of him boss?" Chapman asked from the front.

Abigail couldn't help but roll her eyes, Chapman's eagerness to kill grated on her nerves. Moreau shook his head.

"Once Ram's Horn is complete, them Atherton will be disposed of, though perhaps with more elegance than you can muster Chapman."

Abigail knew exactly what Moreau was hinting at and she didn't like it. Atherton hand't done anything wrong, he was just a witness, a loose end to Moreau's perfect scheme. Abigail wished she was anywhere else in the world than in that car beside Moreau, she was really beginning to hate D.C.

Eliot was frustrated he didn't like anything about this job; his team had bitten off more than they could chew, and now he was responsible for someone other than himself. It was his job to make sure Hardison made it out of this meeting with Moreau more or less unharmed.

The rattling of a serving cart was just another harsh reminder to Eliot the incredible difficulty he was now faced with.

"Moreau's having a party downstairs," Eliot grumbled, "Only way in's the service elevator."

"Ok," Hardison said, almost too impressed with his own plan, "So here's the plan. We've just got to use this to get downstairs. And once we're there, I'm the middleman, you're my bodyguard."

Eliot stopped, watching Hardison as he made his way towards the elevator.

"I'm your bodyguard?" Eliot said, surprised at the lack of plan, "Okay, that's your plan, hmmm?"

"What's this?" a guard at the door asked.

Hardison looked pointedly at Eliot who had a very distant look in his eye.

"Garçon," Hardison said with a barely convincible french accent, "I'm the manager of the kitchen, and I would like to personally deliver Monsieur Moreau's cuisine."

The guard seemed at least somewhat convinced with Hardison's story, and now looked to Eliot who's eyes were drilling a hole through the guard's head.

"Me?" he asked in a gruff voice, "I'm Eliot Spencer."

Both the guard and Hardison seemed visibly shaken by the news while Eliot remained perfectly calm. He had been used to this kind of reaction, years ago.

The guard brought a shaking hand to his mouth, talking urgently into the speaker there, "Open the door."

The door immediately opened, and a very relieved guard beckoned Eliot forward, "This way."

The small group entered the elevator, Hardison glaring at Eliot the entire way.

"Eliot," he whispered careful that the guard did not hear, "Why'd you tell them your real name?"

Eliot ignored him and shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing more than anything that he was not in that elevator.

"Why'd you tell them your real name?" Hardison repeated.

The doors to the elevator opened and the guard stepped out first followed at a slight distance by Eliot and Hardison.

"Why did you tell them your real name Eliot-"

"Look, just stick close to me, okay?" Eliot interrupted with a faint look of concern in his eyes, "This might get messy."

The pool deck was full of beautiful women in skimpy bikini's and even more guards in suits. All the women held a glass of champagne in their hands while flirting with anything they were close to. Eliot couldn't stop sour taste of disgust these parties often left him with. He looked through the women, noticing that something was missing from the scene. As Eliot came closer to the hot tub, more and more guards recognized his imposing figure and drew their weapons. Eliot allowed a small smirk at the girls' squeamish cries at the firearms.

Eliot stopped as a weasley man stood up from his chair by the hot tub.

"Chapman," Eliot said simply, staring the other man down.

"Eliot."

"They gave you the job?"

"There was an opening," Chapman answered with a smirk.

The door to the steam room opened letting out huge billows of steam. Moreau exited wearing a very expensive bathrobe and drying his neck.

"That's no way to treat an old friend," he said with a sly smile.

Hardison looked at Eliot in a mixture of surprise and horror.

"Damien," Eliot greeted, his voice raspy, and his gaze now centered on the mastermind.

Moreau nodded, "Let's catch up."

Three guards sprang out of seemingly nowhere and quickly handcuffed Hardison to a rolling desk chair. Eliot thought through every single thing that could go wrong with that situation, but his eyes never left Moreau's.

Hardison jiggled the cuffs, searching for a weakness in either them or the chair.

"You call this a plan?" he whispered angrily to Eliot.

Eliot took his eyes off of Moreau for a quick second to see just how bad Hardison's situation was.

"I'm not handcuffed to anything," he said simply as his attention turned back to Moreau.

"You work alone," Moreau said gesturing with his glass of scotch towards the hitter.

"Things change."

Moreau chuckled before he took a drink. He snapped his fingers and a woman dressed only slightly more conservatively than the other women in the pool stepped from the door carrying a tray with a bottle of scotch and a glass of ice. Her bathing suit was simple, yet it perfectly accentuated her thin athletic body. She was never very tall, but with the way her high heels added three inches her legs seemed to go on forever. Her hair was jet black, different from the last time he had seen her. The dark hair made her eyes stand out even more than they had when he had first met her. Her eyes widened when she recognized Eliot, he had changed since they had last seen each other but that thought never really crossed her mind. She just could not believe that Eliot was standing there, in front of Moreau after all this time.

Moreau smirked at the hitter's reaction. As Abigail came next to him, he reached a hand around her waist and pulled her tight to him. Eliot didn't miss the shame in her eyes and Moreau certainly did not miss the clench in Eliot's jaw. Moreau smiled and took another sip.

"Not all things change Eliot."

Moreau studied Eliot for a minute, letting Abigail retreat to the other side of the door.

"This one of your retrieval jobs Eliot? Tell me, whose Snoopy lunchbox do I have?" he mocked.

Eliot just shook his head, sparing a glance towards the door Abigail had just left.

"Its not a retrieval. I'm excorting the middleman. I'm contracted to make sure he gets in-and out- with the offer."

Hardison took this as his cue, and clearing his throat while trying to grasp what exactly was happening, he turned his french accent back on.

"Pardon. Monsieur, my client has heard of what you're selling and would like to acquire the Ram's Horn."

Moreau looked at him in amusement, "And your client is..." he asked gesturing with his glass.

"I-If you indulge us with the details of the auction, we can make a bid, all will be revealed. I assure you we are working in good faith," Hardison explained clinging to the hope that Eliot had a very creative escape plan shou- when things went wrong.

"I'm sure you are. I'm sure you are," Moreau said in a very patronizing tone, "But I don't know you."

He looked at Eliot with the ghost of a smile on his face, "I do know you. We could talk."

"I ain't much on talking, Moreau," Eliot grumbled.

"Okay," Moreau said standing slowly, "Let's keep it short."

In one quick move, faster than Eliot had believed him to be capable of, Moreau had pushed the rolling chair with his foot sending the chair and Hardison into the pool. Eliot had to force himself to remain calm, not to flinch.

"I'm sure you told your clients I don't do business with strangers."

"That's why I'm here- to vouch for them."

Moreau sent Eliot a condescending smile, "Oh, a little vague."

Eliot clenched his jaw, "I never told anybody about you. I use the same confidentiality with all my clients. However I can say they're overseas. You sell it to the international buyers, it leaves the U.S. Soil immediately, no trace back to you."

Moreau shook his head, looking down at his now empty scotch, "I already have international buyers, so uh, its not an issue," he swirled his ice, "What else you got?"

Eliot was quiet, yet his brain was going miles a minute. Hardison was in the water, and Abigail was being fondled by Moreau.

"Tell you what," Moreau said putting his glass down, "I need Atherton taken care of, and I want it done cleanly, no trace back to me, or any of my guys. You take care of Atherton, and you can tell your _client_, he has a seat at the auction."

Eliot caught the disappointed look in Abigail's eyes when he nodded. Moreau only smiled and nonchalantly tossed a set of handcuff keys into the pool. In mere seconds, Hardison came sputtering from the pool. Eliot let out a breath of relief, he hand't shown it but he was worried; Hardison wasn't tough, he really couldn't take much.

He came dripping do stand next to Eliot, his face barely masking both his fear and fury.

"And what message I should convey to my employer?" Hardison said in a very forced accent.

Moreau laugh, "I like this one!"

He turned to Eliot, looking at the hitter carefully, "I'm glad we could strike a deal. Reminds me of Belgrade."

Moreau walked away, but not before grabbing Abigail by the arm a little bit tighter than necessary, but more to prove a point. With one last glance towards Eliot, she begrudgingly followed Moreau into the private rooms of the pool.

Eliot clenched his jaw before turning to Hardison and dragging _him_ out of the pool.

"Come on," he growled.

"I lowered the chair and sucked the air from the pneumatic. It gave me an extra 30 seconds," Hardison explained all traces of his french type accent were now gone, "That better be why you didn't come and get me - 'cause you knew I'd do that right?"

Eliot rolled his eyes, "Yeah Hardison, 'cause I knew you were gonna suck are out of a chair," he growled slamming the door shut.

The women had reentered the pool, the guards had put away their guns, and everything returned back to the way it was. Sort of.

Abigail couldn't help the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew Moreau was going to have something to say about the sudden appearance of Eliot Spencer. Damnit Eliot, you're timing couldn't have been worse she thought. She sat down in a rather luxurious armchair, trying her best to maintain her calm and collected presence.

"After all this time he shows up now?"

Abigail smiled, "I don't know Moreau, perhaps somebody wants you out," she suggested looking at her nails as if they were discussing the day's weather.

"Maybe someone finally caught up to you and wants you out," she said with a smirk.

Moreau stiffened before turning to look at her smug face.

"That would make you pretty happy now wouldn't it," he growled, "Let me remind you that it is in your best interest to make sure I succeed in what ever it is I set my mind to."

He took a long drink before calming down and addressing Abigail one more time.

"Eliot will be taking care of Atherton tomorrow, I want you driving," he said staring her down, "I don't trust Chapman. If anything _anything_ should happen tomorrow that is questionable, I will make that phone call faster than you will ever be able to stop me."

He stormed out of the room leaving a rather subdued Abigail alone to worry about what was to come.

Parker squinted at the iPad Sophie had handed her, "It looks like a..."

She passed it to Sophie, they had both been trying to decipher what they had discovered for the past half hour waiting for Hardison and Eliot to show up.

"A fish?" Sophie suggested turning the iPad upside down, "A complicated fish. We need to five Yasmin a ring."

Nate who was pacing in front of the two women stopped suddenly, "No, I want to keep Yasmin clear."

It was then that Hardison stormed over towards the trio followed by a very morose Eliot.

"What?" Nate asked.

Hardison looked right at Eliot glaring at him before he plopped down next to Sophie and Parker, "Tell them what you did, Eliot. You risked my life-"

Eliot ignored Hardison turning to Nate, "We'e in. Moreau's gonna give me the details of the auction tomorrow."

Sophie immediately turned to Eliot, "You? Why is he giving you the details."

Eliot ground his teeth, "I said we're in! Just make the plan."

Hardison was done watching Eliot try to skirt around the truth, "Hey, Eliot worked with Moreau back in the day. A lot. Tell. Them."

Nate was now extremely angry, he approached the hitter without thinking through any of his actions, "WE've been chasing Moreau for six months, and you didn't tell us?"

Eliot sighed trying to remain calm, "Because I was trying-"

"Because what?" Nate interrupted glaring at the hitter.

"-to figure out a way around this, all right?" he mumbled trying to make the rather naive group o thieves understand what was at stake, "maybe take my shot before-"

"Cause you're protecting him?" Nate said, not listening to what Eliot was trying to infer.

"I'm protecting you! All right?" Eliot growled, softening slightly at Parker's scared expression at his outburst, "Last time I checked, that's my job."

Nate sighed, now understanding of the hitter's motivations.

"Look, we can handle Moreau," he said more confidently than he should have.

Eliot shook his head, "We're out of our league Nate. Every one of Moreau's men has innocent blood on their hands, every one of 'em. Every one of 'em," he paused thinking of the repercussions his admission was going to have on the group, "worse than me."

He inwardly cringed at the almost disappointed look on Parkers face, and the worried motherly look Sophie was trying to use to comfort him.

"You think you know what I've done? The worst thing I ever did in my entire life, I did for Damien Moreau. And I-I'll never be clean of that."

Parker looked at him this time, curious of what Eliot had done that made him feel so guilty.

"What did you do?" she asked innocently.

"Don't ask me that Parker," he said, his eyes conveying the apology he wasn't able to say himself, "Because if you ask me, I'm gonna tell you so please don't sake me."

Sophie sighed, as a grifter she was extremely good at reading people and even the first time she met Eliot, she knew that he meant no harm to anyone in the group and his first priority was always to ensure their safety. What ever he had done in the past was irrelevant now.

"Look, we all have a past," she said more for forcing ante to calm himself than for Eliot, "You don't have to tell us anything, Eliot. But we've learned the hard way we've got to be straight with each other."

Nate nodded, accepting the situation for now, though Eliot could tell that this discussion was far from over.

"So ay, yeah, you said that Moreau is going to give you details on the auction tomorrow. Why tomorrow?" Nate asked getting the team's focus back on the plan at hand.

"Because he wants me to do something for him first," Eliot mumbled, already trying to come up with an alternative for the next day.

"I'll bet he does," Nate said sarcastically, "What?"

Eliot looked at Sophie, begging her to understand, "Kill Atherton."

"Kill Atherton?" she scoffed, "You can't! You're not that man anymore."

Nate waved Sophie's objections away, "He might have to be...to get us in."

Hardison chose this moment to interject his discovery on what it was exactly they were getting themselves into.

"So we can buy a bomb?"

"What?" Nate asked, genuinely surprised.

"The Ram's Horn-its a bomb," Hardison explained, "A very big bomb."

Nate took the iPad looking at the schematics in a new light.

"It's an E.M.P Bomb, electromagnetic pulse. I recognize it 'cause I build something just like it. My E.M.P gun its like that just jacked up by a factor of a million. It fries everything electronic within the blast radius, which, on this thing, is about the size of a city," Hardison furthered.

Parker shrugged, "doesn't sound so bad."

Hardison shook his head, "Yeah, unless you're in a hospital or in a car on the freeway or in a plan falling out of the sky."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Okay, now," Nate started feeling oddly motivated by this newfound information, "Atherton is going to give this to Moreau, and Moreau is going to auction it off to the highest bidder."

"Terrorists?" Sophie suggested, "criminal gangs?"

"So what do we do," Hardison asked Nate, not really able to see a way out of this particular job they had given themselves, "Call the feds, show them the plans that we stole form the department of defense and tell them that some dude with protection from on high is maybe selling it this weekend?"

"No, no, no," Nate said looking at Hardison as if he were crazy, "What we do is we stick with the plan. We find out where Moreau's selling this and who the buyer is, and we get into that auction."

"Only way to get the details of the auction is if I kill Atherton," Eliot pointed out.

Nate smiled, "Then that's what you're going to do."


End file.
